Indulging the Spirit

By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, Max had already gathered a great many gifts. Winter brought ice-skating and snowball fights. His father had taken him on fishing trips to Mummelsee and a road trip to Munich. Even the soon-to-come little brother was highly anticipated by all.

As came December 24th, so came ‘Heiligabend’ – the Holy Evening. Frau Muller laid a complete set of dress clothes on Max’s bed: black slacks, a blue button-down shirt, and a yellow bow tie. Max changed into his shirt and slacks, and clipped his bow tie into place.

“Maxie, you look quite handsome,” said Frau Muller as she straightened his tie.

“Why can’t I wear a regular neck tie like Johann?” asked Max.

“The neckties are all too long. They’d hang to your knees,” said Johann.

“Don’t worry, nobody will notice,” reassured his mother.

As usual, Max rode in the back seat, behind his father. Johann sat behind mother. Frau Muller pulled her seat far forward; Herr Muller, on the other hand, extended his seat as far back as it would go. Again, Max was crammed into the back seat, trying not to be too uncomfortable.

“Oh, isn’t that the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?” exclaimed mother.

Bright white spotlights shined upwards, illuminating all four sides of the church tower. The church tower’s reflection shone on the ice-crusted snow. A line of people formed at the door, waiting to go inside.

Herr and Frau Muller greeted friends at the church’s entryway. Johann found his school friends and chatted with thiem. Meanwhile, Max watched everyone around him. He knew nobody.

“Max,” greeted a voice.

It was Pastor Schmidt. He busily greeted everyone entering the church. His wire-rimmed glasses sat at the end of his little nose. His hair was as bright as his flowing white robe. A scarf, made of dark purple silk, hung around his neck. There were embroidered gold crosses on each side. Braided gold rope hung around his neck, too. He looked very regal to Max – like a prince or king.

“Good evening, Pastor Schmidt,” said Max.

“It’s good to see you. Why haven’t I seen you at the youth gatherings?”

“I guess I’ve been busy.”

“That’s too bad. By the way, I really like your bow tie.”

When Pastor Schmidt shook Max’s hand, it was cold and smooth. He spoke quietly. It was as if Max was the most important person in the Pastor’s world. Max walked through the entrance. He turned around and watched Pastor Schmidt. Every person he greeted, he knew them by name.

Inside the chapel, Herr Muller found an empty pew close to the pulpit. The bell choir sat behind the organist. The singing choir stood behind the pulpit.

At the choir director’s signal, the bell choir stood up and walked to a table lined with a row of hand bells. The choir director readied her baton, everyone in the chapel stood up. They sang the canticle while the bell choir played. The canticle was a traditional hymn to begin the service.

Two altar boys lit every candle as they circled the pews. Pastor Schmidt, the last soul to enter the chapel, closed the double doors and strode confidently down the aisle. He stood behind the pulpit, opening his hands gracefully. Everyone sat down.

Max listened to Pastor Schmidt’s sermon. He spoke about Christmas and he spoke about everyday things. He even spoke about his clean white robes – the care that he had taken with a simple piece of cloth for a special occasion – Christmas Vespers.

“Why is it that we seem to treat only certain days with reverence, when every day is a holy day. Every day is a gift to be treasured.”

Although Pastor Schmidt spoke for a long, long time after that, Max’s thoughts wandered. After the service, everyone went gathered in the Auditorium for punch and cookies.

Max waited in line for punch and cookies. A platter of spritzgebäck sat at the end of the table. To Max, they looked like little yellow worms, with one end dipped in chocolate. He piled them on his plate next to the other cookies. One of the kitchen helpers served punch in tiny paper cups.
Pastor Schmidt stood with the other pastors, laughing, talking, and greeting everyone who came his way. Max walked towards them, punch in one hand, a plate of cookie worms in the other.

“Pastor Schmidt?”

“Yes, Max?”

“When are you going to become a monk?”

Pastor Schmidt chuckled. “Never if I can help it.”

“Why not? I think you’d make a good monk.”

“We are Lutherans. Lutherans do not become monks.”

“But I thought Martin Luther was a monk.”

“He was a Monk, but he was a Catholic monk.”

“Aren’t we Catholics?”

“We’re Lutherans, named after Martin Luther. After he left the monastery, he became a priest. He saw many things wrong with the Catholic Church. He wrote letters to the church leaders, but they didn’t listen. He nailed a letter of these reforms on the doors of the Castle Chruch for all to see. This was the beginning of the Lutheran protest.”

“Is that what it means to be Protestant?”

“Martin Luther protested something called indulgences. Indulgences were a way people could ‘buy their way into heaven’ by making donations to the church.”

“This is quite some topic,” added one of the other pastors.

“Indeed it is,” interrupted Frau Muller, “Maxie, do not trouble the men with questions about the history of the Lutheran church.”

“He’s not hurting anything,” said Pastor Schmidt.

“It’s time we should be going anyway,”

“You’re not going to stay for the bell choir?”

“There’s only one more bell I want to hear ringing – and that’s the ‘Christkind’ bell.”

“Of course,” said Pastor Schmidt. The pressing matters of ‘Weihnachten.’”

Weihnachten was the othe name for December 24th. It was the part of the evening the children loved best – gathering around the Christmas Tree to open presents, drink egg nog, and sing carols.

Frau Muller herded the entire family into the Porsche. They arrived safely at home, only to find the front door locked. Frau Muller knocked on the door.

“Papa? Are you there?”

The lights in the living room immediately went black. A loud crashing sound could be heard outside. Then, a door slammed shut.

“Papa? Are you alright?”

A tiny bell rang just as Grand-papa Weible opened the door.

“I think the Christ Child has been here!”

Johann folded his arms across his chest as he heaved a sigh.

“Grand-papa, that was you,” he said.

“That was me, what?” Grand-papa pulled a bandana from his overall pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Who has the key to the living room door?” asked Grand-papa. He reached behind Johann’s ear and plucked a key out of thin air.

“Come on, Grand-papa. You're not fooling us…”

He unlocked the doors and flung them open. The light from the Christmas tree emitted a dim golden glow in the living room. Everyone gathered around the tree as Max searched the tags on the presents.

“Maxie, I think this one is for you,” said Grand-papa Weible as he handed a large square package to Max. Max strained under the weight. He tore through the wrapping paper. Inside, there was a complete toy train set.

“Thank you Grand-papa!”

“It wasn’t me," insisted Grand-papa.

“Papa?”

Herr Muller shrugged his shoulders and then gave Max the slightest of winks.

Johann picked out a gift and opened it. It was a brand new shaving kit, complete with razors, shaving cream, and a trimmer. Frau Muller received a pair of diamond earrings. Herr Muller got a torque wrench. Grand-papa Weible’s gift was a new pair of work boots.

After they opened their presents, they gathered around the kitchen table for a feast. Frau Muller fixed roast duck, bread pudding, cornbread stuffing, and mashed potatoes. Everyone ate until their tummies were full.

Max and Grand-papa Weible assembled the train track in the piano room, while the little gray Weimaraner watched. Grand-papa placed the engine on the train tracks before plugging in the power cord. Max carefully turned the speed dial. The engine’s lights came on and its electric motor buzzed quietly.

“Arf!” yapped ßilver.

The train engine rolled a few centimeters towards the dog. The dog jumped backwards and barked one more time.

“Hund!” shouted Frau Muller as she entered the piano room. ßilver glared at her before turning his attention back to the engine. He let out a low growl as he pressed his nose towards the tiny black engine. Max nudged the speed dial and the train lurched at the dog.
“Arf! Arf!”

“Hund! This is just not going to work!” She snatched the big gray dog by the collar and took him outside. While Grand-papa Weible and Max played with the train, ßilver waited out in the cold.

When they finished, Max packed his train back into its box and put it away. ßilver came inside and scouted out the piano room. With the train gone, ßilver would have the piano room all to himself. Grand-papa Weible had not forgotten the dog, either. He dropped a beef chew next to ßilver. ßilver chewed on it for most of the night, until the heating vent made ßilver cozy and warm and ready for a good night’s sleep.